


Another Chance

by YinAndYangOnIce



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Healing, Unrequited Love, background McHanzo, bc i can't not, that ends up pretty requited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YinAndYangOnIce/pseuds/YinAndYangOnIce
Summary: Reinhardt decides to sack up and finally let Ana Amari know how he's felt about her for nearly twenty years.





	

Reinhardt stood outside of the door, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he burned the door’s number into the back of his eyes.   It was her old room, preserved perfectly after all this time, if not for a fine layer of dust (he used to keep it up a bit better before Overwatch split up and he wasn’t able to visit Gibraltar anymore.) He remembered many a night when he would sit with her in that room, hiding away from all of the drama and tension between Gabe and Jack, drinking her strong Arak or his ale and laughing the night away.

He often tried to remember the last time they had done that. If he had known it would be the last, perhaps he would’ve made it more of a ceremony. 

But now she was back, both her funeral and years of mourning rendered moot. 

And Reinhardt had really, honestly thought she was dead, so he’d never let himself consider what he’d do if Ana were to ever return, so he was both surprised and unsurprised by his own reaction.

He could’ve been angry, like McCree, or furious, like Fareeha. He could’ve been astonished, fighting back tears, like Mercy, or give great, heaving sobs like Torbjörn. He could’ve even had bright stars in his eyes, zipping around asking questions like Lena, or looks of confusion like the newcomers, Hana and Lúcio. 

But when Ana had appeared on their doorstep, with an eyepatch and long, raven hair grayed with age but still as beautiful as the day he’d met her, he was silent, stoic, observing. The others had definitely noticed it because Reinhardt was never silent, not even when he was asleep (Mercy had tried hundreds of tests and treatments to relieve his thunderous snoring, to no avail,) but they were either giving him his space or were too wrapped up in everything to worry about him.

Either way, even if they had approached him, it wouldn’t have changed that he had gone back to his room once all the excitement had died down, locked the door behind him, and wept. 

What else was he supposed to do when the great, unrequited love of his life, whom he’d spent years grieving over, suddenly returned out of the blue; unharmed, alive, breathing?

After the tears had dried, however, Reinhardt decided that, by some great, mysterious force of nature, someone or something had brought Ana back to him, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes or have the same reservations he’d had in his youth.

He’d spent nearly twenty years wishing he’d told Ana how he felt when he had the chance, and though there had been others that he’d been able to love (his time with Brigitte was wonderful, even if it did end with them going their separate ways,) he could never forget the fiery woman who could shoot down a row of grunts with one bullet from a mile away and held the team together like glue and loved her daughter so fiercely and so wholly that she wanted to swaddle her away from danger but taught her how to fight it instead.

So that’s how he ended up here, sweating bullets and towering over Ana Amari’s quarters with a bouquet of daisies in his monstrous hands. 

He raised his hand to knock on the door then stopped, heart clutching at the very idea of doing so.

This was ridiculous. He had faced down tanks and choppers and omnic goliath with just a chest plate and a smile. There was no way he was going to run with his tail between his legs over a crush.

He rose his hand again, shaking, then froze when he heard soft music dimly from a ways away, growing louder as it approached.

Lúcio skated round the corner (in his leisure skates, which were just a pair of roller skates and not his whole rig he used for battle,) locs free around his shoulders and with huge headphones over his ears. He was humming, but stopped and brightened when he saw Reinhardt. He looked about to greet him, but went quiet as his eyes fell on the flowers in his hands.

He paused for a few seconds before his face broke into an enormous grin, and he slapped his own cheeks so hard his glasses went askew.

Before Reinhardt could even say anything, Lúcio was by his side, punching his arm in seemingly uncontainable excitement. 

“You sly dog, you!” Lúcio hissed, so quietly Reinhardt almost didn’t hear him. “I knew a big teddy bear like you couldn’t be single unless you were carryin’ a torch!”

Reinhardt didn’t say anything, just flushed and put on a weak smile.

“Well, what are you waiting for, man?” the Brazilian asked, skating behind Reinhardt faster than his eyes could follow him. He started pushing against the older man’s back, putting absolutely no weight against his hulking form even though Reinhardt stepped forward anyway. “Go get her!”  Then he glided away, muttering something about how Hana was going to “lose her shit!”

Well, that was humiliating, Reinhardt thought, despite the swell of affection he felt for the small, Brazilian boy.   
 There really was no avoiding it now, since half of the Overwatch base was going to know about it by the time it was over.

He took a deep breath, grimacing when his large, long sigh rustled some of the petals of the daisies and even caused a few to fall off. 

He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and raised his hand to knock-

Only for the automatic door to slide open, revealing the younger, spitting image of Ana in the doorway, face level with his fist.

She didn’t jump (she was like her mother that way, always aware,) but her mouth did drop into an “oh” as she took him in.

Her eyes were red around the rims and there were bags underneath. She had obviously been crying and despite himself, Reinhardt felt his heart break for her. He was never able to handle when Fareeha cried, ever since she was a little girl, and he had spent as many years as he’d been pining wishing he could let Fareeha know that her mother loved her more than anything in the world. 

“Hello, fraulein,” he said softly, smiling comfortingly.

“Hello, Reinhardt,” she said around a sniffle and Reinhardt averted his eyes and pretended he hadn’t noticed. She looked up from rubbing her nose and noticed, apparently for the first time, the flowers in his hands. She looked between them and Reinhardt’s face, gaze solid as he felt his face heating up again.

“Oh, boy,” she sighed, with a grin on her lips. 

“I, uh-“ he stammered, unsure what to say. He hadn’t really thought as far as the woman he was in love with’s daughter in this plan. Then he glanced up and saw Ana behind her, watching him from over her shoulder. Great.

“What a whirlwind this has been, ay?” Fareeha said, stepping out into the hall. Then she leaned closer to him, whispered, “She was fond of you for a great many years. I wouldn’t look so nervous if I were you.”  
 Then she rounded around him, pat him on the shoulder, and was gone.

He turned to watch her leave through the double doors, then turned back to find Ana beaming at him.  
 “Hello, Reinhardt,” she said warmly.

“I, um… Hello.” What he’d said wasn’t funny, but she chuckled anyway. This didn’t feel quite like old times, but he supposed that’s because it wasn’t. He hadn’t seen her for twenty years, had believed her dead, so he shouldn’t be surprised it felt different.

“I’m afraid, in all of the excitement, I haven’t been able to greet you properly,” she said, watching him with those molten chocolate eyes he remembered from so long ago.  
 They watched each other, unmoving, and then he was enveloping her, earlier intentions forgotten as he took her in his arms for the first time in twenty years.   
 Regardless of how he felt or how this ended, Reinhardt was overwhelmed as she burrowed her way into his chest, something he never thought he’d feel her do again.

“I have missed you, maus,” he whispered into her hair, breathing in the same aromatic oil she’d used to keep it strong and healthy in the ever-changing climates Overwatch took her to all those years ago. 

“And I have missed you, baladi al’asad,” she told him. He’d always loved that nickname, how the sweet syllables rolled off of her tongue.

When they pulled apart, she shocked him by sniffling, patting her fingers under her eye. Like her daughter, he pretended to become interested in something else as he wiped his own tears. The Amari women hated crying in front of others and if Reinhardt was honest, he hated seeing them cry.

“Well, come in, come in,” she said, stepping several feet back to let his hulking form into the room. She took him in in the low light of her bedroom, only a small lamp illuminated by her bed. He’d always felt, not small, but smaller under her gaze. Even though it only had half the power now, it still left him wanting to puff his chest out and impress her.

“Are those for me?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, confused, before remembering the flowers crushed in his palm. There were looking worse for wear, having squished them against Ana’s back when he was squeezing her.  
 “Ah, I… yes, they were, but-“

“Thank you,” Ana said, reaching out and taking the wilted flowers from his hands. “I will put them in a vase immediately.”

He felt like arguing with her, telling her he’d get her better flowers, but he knew once she’d decided something, it was nearly impossible to change her mind.

“So how have you been?” Reinhardt asked, a huge hand draped over the back of his neck. It felt strange to ask, considering the last time he’d seen her, she’d been dead (he would have to grill someone about her open casket at some point.) But there wasn’t a guide on how to make small talk with your previously-dead unrequited love and he always had a distinct interest in how she was.

She must have sensed how weird it was to be asked that as well, because she laughed.

“Well, I suppose?” she said, fingering the petals of one of the daisies. “It’s nice to finally step out of the shadows.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. There was a long silence between them before she spoke up again.  “I would not blame you if you were angry at me,” she said, defiant but resigned. “You out of everyone has the most right to be.”

Reinhardt remembered the aftermath, how desolate it all had been. He remembered sprinting down the hall when he’d gotten a call from the hotel management and holding Jesse’s shaking, sobbing form surrounded by the destroyed remains of the furniture in his hotel room, a few miles away from the plot where they’d buried Ana.

“I don’t think I am,” he admitted and she nodded, smiling ruefully. “Has he been to see you yet?”

She snorted. “Oh, has he. I remember a time when he would brood and hide away instead of dealing with his problems face to face.”

Reinhardt chuckled, shaking his head. “It used to be worse, when he felt the need to start kerfuffles with everyone. He’s mellowed out quite a bit.”

“It’s more than just the person he became after Reyes broke him in,” Ana noted. “He’s found something.” She looked at him, meaningfully.  
 “He has.”   
“The archer,” she said and he nodded. “He was standing by the door the entire time Jesse was yelling at me. He didn’t say anything but he bowed before leaving the room with Jesse.”

Reinhardt smirked, thinking back to how much Hanzo had changed as well. 

“Remind me to tell you that whole story,” he said. “They are good for each other.”

“So why aren’t you?”

Reinhardt cocked his head, puzzled. “Why aren’t I what?”

“Angry at me?” she looked, for the first time, tiny to her. Of course, she was maus to him, dwarfed by his size, but so was everyone. For the first time, she seemed small, vulnerable, all too aware of the consequences of what she’d done. 

He smiled sadly, shrugged. “I am too old to spend my time angry at one of my dearest friends.”

She didn’t say anything then, just let her good eye dart over his form searchingly. 

When the silence had stretched out for several moments, Reinhardt felt himself curling in slightly, flushing. 

Was now a good time to ask? Did he come here to ask or just confess straight out or what? He couldn’t even remember. 

He didn’t know what words were locked and loaded on the tip of his tongue when he opened his mouth to speak, but he found himself once again cut off.

“I have thought of you,” she said suddenly. “I have been thinking of you every day for almost twenty years.”

He blinked at her. “I- um. Same. I-It is the same for me.”

She beamed at him.

“Would you, perhaps, like to join me for dinner?” she asked, putting the handful of flowers on the bed behind her. “Just the two of us?” She reached out a small, delicate hand to him.

He smiled, took that hand and brought her closer to him. “I would like that very much.”


End file.
